


Put a Spell on You (because you’re mine)

by snowbellewells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 22:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18882787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/pseuds/snowbellewells
Summary: I wrote this back during 4b, and I honestly wasn’t going to do anything on the “Emma-going-dark” front; others were tackling it nicely and I wasn’t sure how I would. It got a decent response on find.net though, so it dug it out again and brought it over here. Enjoy!





	1. i. darkness creeps in

i.darkness creeps in

The deepening purplish circles under her eyes have been growing ever more pronounced, worrying him for weeks now. She is both anxious and jittery, yet bone-weary and weighed down by the cares upon her shoulders. Emma Swan surely thinks that she has hidden her stress and fatigue well, but to one who knows her (and he does know her – as well as she will allow anyone to) the strain is beginning to show.

When they part ways at night now, she tilts her face up to his, grinning a warm, secretive smile and awaiting his gentle kiss, and he tucks her hair behind her ear, cradles her cheek in his hand, profoundly happy to steal a few moments alone with her. Yet, he also finds himself near to biting a hole in his tongue to keep back his words of caution for her, his fear that she is pushing herself too hard, too far, too soon. He cannot risk driving a wedge between them or making her run – not now. She is already keeping her distance from her parents, no longer staying with them in the loft. He has gone back to his ship since the Jolly’s return to him, and so has offered her the use of his room at Granny’s – paid for the month in doubloons that the old woman bit to check for authenticity, then grinned conspiratorially, accepted, and ferretted away in some hidden pocket of her skirts. However, he wonders if Emma paces the floor all night, or haunts the library seeking answers with an equally sleepless Belle, or simply drives aimlessly for hours; whatever it is she does, he can plainly see that she is not resting.

Killian Jones is not a man afraid of much on this wide earth’s surface, but Emma turning her back on him now and walking away is a haunting phantasm that never truly leaves his mind. And it is no longer simply the pain he knows he will feel, but the fact that she needs his support more than ever. He is more afraid for her safety and her sanity than he has ever been, and he does not know what method to try.

Those worries and fears all come to a head as he skids to the edge of the cliff face, behind a stunned, crushed-looking Mary Margaret and David, where he can clearly see Emma and Henry clinging tightly to one another frantically; panting, near tears, and much too close to the drop-off, but at first glance seeming whole and unharmed. He does not know where the rotten banshee who tried taking Henry has gotten to, has missed the entire showdown due to what he knows must have been Gold’s trickery and machination with the shell and Henry’s voice. He wanted to be there and have his Swan’s back, but he feels intense relief to see that she seems to have done just fine on her own.

A rush of air brushes along his skin as Regina charges up behind him, nearly bowling them all over as she calls out her son’s name in a voice harsh with desperation, clearly having been slowed by a similar deception to the one which fooled him. Killian merely steps back so that she can see her boy has been saved and reach him.

It is only as Regina falls to her knees on Henry’s other side, pulls him into her arms, and Emma shifts back slightly, that he is hit by a jolt of fear upon getting a good first look at her face. The reddened irritation beneath her lovely eyes has taken on an even more pronounced hue, making her look angry and more than a bit unhinged. He takes a weak step forward, wishing to soothe, to comfort…but then she leans to peer over the edge. Killian realizes in a flash that Cruella must have gone off the precipice, that the villainess is truly finished, no longer a threat. However, he is frozen in place, a chill of foreboding running down his spine, when Emma turns in his direction once more.

Her gaze is unfocused, not resting on any of them, but turned inward as if contemplating what she thinks of Cruella’s demise. Killian’s heart does not truly splinter until he sees a small, ill-suited little grin of satisfaction sneak over Emma’s lips…almost as if she is pleased with what she has done.

And he knows. Knows with the sinking certainty of one who has crawled back out of the pit and still clearly remembers the darkness’ pull, that something inside of his beautiful Emma has turned. A bit of his Savior’s shining, bright light has gone out


	2. ii. darkness closing in

ii. dancing on the edge

He paces outside the rented room he once called his own, jerking a rough hand through mussed dark hair and wondering how best to approach the lass who has stolen his heart, who is awaiting him within. The look he had seen lingering on her face yesterday still makes his blood run cold, but he has never been one to give up without a fight. Like the rest of Emma’s family, he does not abandon hope easily. He knows that though her spark – her unique and priceless flame has flickered – the transformation is far from complete. His Swan is a fighter, and he intends to help her wage this war.

Killian’s true concern, as he raises his hook to tap lightly upon the wooden door, is that he will not be enough to help her. The very sight of the hook on his blunted left arm is enough to make him wince and feel that fear all the more; it is a clear and drastic reminder that he has been where Emma stands now, chose the wrong course, and followed it for far too long.

Scuffling noises emit from within the room, puzzling him and causing him to call out in case she hasn’t heard his knocking. “Come now, Love,” he urges playfully. “Don’t keep an old pirate waiting!”

A few moments later, the door eases open a crack, revealing one side of Emma’s face as she peeks around the barrier – mouth smirking and her eye twinkling with an edge of mischief he’s never seen from her before. She steps back and opens the door wider, allowing him to enter the room, but keeping herself mostly hidden. “Won’t you come in, Captain?” she practically purrs. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Her voice is pitched low, all silk and seduction, and it throws Killian off balance. He is usually the one tossing innuendo and inching their flirtation forward, and though he is certainly amenable to Emma taking the lead and making her own romantic moves, something about this does not feel quite right.

Reaching the middle of the thinly carpeted floor, he draws in a deep breath and turns to face his love, just as he hears the door slam closed and Emma giggle with a type of wild glee he has certainly never heard her utter. His brow furrows, and then he is fully facing her and all the bloods races from his face and his breath stalls at fully clapping eyes on her.

“Emma, what…?” he tries to ask, but the words trail off and die on his lips. She leans against the door, staring right back at him, one delicate brow arched in challenge, a smug grin on her mouth, and crooking a finger at him to beckon him closer. Killian knows that if the situation were not so serious, he would laugh at his own reaction – mouth suddenly gone dry and eyes bugging from their sockets.

He has never seen Emma look so soft and willing, yet dangerously tempting, as she does in this moment. It twists and wrings his heart that he has to resist. This is not something she would do naturally – attempt to seduce so blatantly – and he sees the strange detachment still swirling in her eyes behind the “come hither” stare. So much of her creamy, flawless skin is on display that he has a hard time figuring where to rest his gaze. It is a far stretch from indecent, but the satiny, pale pink slip she wears under a loosely flowing white robe that she has left untied leaves more of her legs and décolletage on display than she has ever shown him. It gives her the appearance of a lost and bewildered fallen angel, just waiting to be debased.

“Why are you so far away, Killian?” she pouts, batting her lashes at him in a very un-Emma-like fashion. “I know you want this. Why don’t you come a bit closer?”

He swallows reflexively around the large, suffocating lump in his throat, and takes a faltering step toward her, steeling his resolve. There has never been a time he has needed to rely on his sodding ‘good form’ and vow to be a gentleman more. Emma is playing with fire, and it would be all too easy to give in, to take what he has desired for so long. Yet, all her life Emma has been ill-used, tossed aside, taken for granted…and he will not do the same. He has promised to treasure her as she deserves, and he will not falter at this trial.

Nervously darting his tongue out to wet his lips, Killian’s sharp eyes don’t miss Emma’s harsh intake of breath or the way her green orbs follow the involuntary movement with intense, burning hunger. When he gets close enough to touch her, he reaches out, pulls her to him abruptly, and crushes her to his chest. What she is offering is clear, but he prays that holding her will break through the haze surrounding his Swan, and that she will take the comfort and assurance he is trying to offer.

He dips his head to bury his nose in the soft hair at the crown of her head, breathing in her particular scent of cinnamon, honey, and what he likens to sunshine and light itself. With his hook at the small of her back, keeping her close, Killian smoothes his hand reverently over her hair, her shoulder, and down her back, trying to soothe and calm, take away the sting of his unspoken rebuff.

Emma allows the gentle contact for a few aching moments, just long enough for Killian to think things may be alright – and then she wriggles out of his hold – putting him at arm’s length and staring him down.

“I don’t understand, Killian,” she rasps, voice low and filled with enough hurt to stab viciously into his chest. She lowers her eyes and sniffles. When she raises her lovely green gaze once more, unshed tears glisten on her lashes. “I – I truly believed that you wanted me…” her words trail off there, but the sense of betrayal she feels is evident as she turns away from him and retreats several steps, arms wrapped around herself protectively.

Killian bows his head, shoulders slumping in defeat – as careful as he tried to be, he has still hurt her. Involuntarily, knowing it may only bring more pain, make things worse, he lurches after her, hand and hook reaching out in hopes of pulling her back and making her understand.

“Emma…” he whispers her name tenderly, pleading with her to see reason, to sense what he truly feels beneath her temporary confusion. “Love…you know…you must know by now…what I feel for you. I want you more than I can adequately express. At this moment though, it would not be right. I care for all of you, love and treasure your heart and your soul, not just your body. Can’t you see? I will not take advantage of you when you are not yourself!”

She has crossed the room, standing with her back to him at the window, and he sees her shoulders rise, her whole form stiffen at his impassioned speech. Again, blind with hope, he thinks for a second that his words have reached her. He steps that much closer, about to lay his hand on her shoulder, when Emma whirls and catches him off guard.

Her eyes are crackling with barely contained fire as she stares him down, and if Killian were a lesser man, he might take a few steps back in fear. He can see magical energy sparking and flickering across her palms, disturbingly more gray tinged than the usual brilliant white glow. “No!” she yells forcefully, tossing her head as the air around them begins to dance with power. “You don’t get to be honorable and gentle and make me want you even more! Not if you aren’t going to do anything about it! I’m tired of always trying to be the hero! Tired of trying to please everyone else and ending up unhappy and alone myself. It’s time I get what I want!”

“But Darling, you aren’t really—” he starts, only for her to interrupt in a powerful, unnerving voice that barely seems her own.

“Enough!” She raises her hands and there is an audible sizzle in the room’s atmosphere. The lights waver fitfully, and Emma’s eyes find and hold him, freezing Killian in place as effectively as if she has turned him to stone.

“Killian Jones, you are mine,” she intones, the strangely haunted look in her eyes growing more pronounced and nearly taking over. She no longer appears torn over her actions, no longer looks hurt or vulnerable, but more like a vengeful goddess past all control. “I bind you to me from now on. You will not leave my side or fail to do my bidding. My wish is your command, until I say otherwise or send you away from me. You cannot leave me and you cannot betray me.” A twisted little smile curls over her lips, deviously malicious where a smile has before only ever seemed tentatively shy and beautiful. “Now,” and she nearly laughs in his face as she leans forward, repeating his months old promise back at him in mockery, “is when the fun begins.”

Then she flings her hands out before her, touches them to his chest, and casts her spell.


	3. iii. can’t steal what’s been given

iii. can’t steal what’s been given

For several long moments, haziness descends on Killian’s senses, as if he is seeing everything through badly smeared glass. Sounds are muffled, his limbs feel heavy; nothing moves as he tells it to. He is a living puppet on a string. A horrifying sense of déjà vu reminds him of when the Crocodile held his heart and controlled him – for a brief nightmarish minute he is there again – but then he shakes free of the panic. This is not that, as unnerving as it may be. A certain warmth suffuses the edges of this fog, and Killian takes comfort in the sensation, telling himself he is in no real danger, he simply has to regain his bearings.

“Killian,” her voice coaxes at the edge of his awareness, whispering through his mind. “Look at me.”

His eyes snap up to see Emma standing before him, a warm, enticing smile on her face, beckoning him to the welcome harbor of her arms. He sucks in a deep breath, sensing that there is some important detail he’s forgetting, there must be some reason why he has not already drawn her close. Yet, whatever it might have been, the reason escapes him now, and he draws nearer, just as she requests. 

“That’s it,” she coos, her eyes sparkling like twin emeralds, looking at him so adoringly he can hardly believe it is real. Her gaze enticing – hypnotizing – and he cannot look away as she continues to speak, “Now, kiss me…please, Killian.”

He shakes his head, as if trying to clear it. He wants to kiss her – without question; very few moments in any day go by that he does not want to sweep her off her feet and kiss her until she begs him to stop so she can breathe. So why is he not already doing so?

Killian closes the space between in two quick strides and pulls Emma into his arms, lowering his mouth to capture hers and literally plundering her lips as only a pirate can – tasting and nipping and stealing her air. Emma’s arms wrap around his neck, her fingers thread into the hair at his nape, and she hums approvingly into his mouth. Several minutes pass in sensual bliss, both their hands wandering as the kiss continues and he senses them easing as one toward the room’s single bed.

Then, suddenly, all slams back into focus in Killian’s mind; his will suddenly reasserts itself despite his burning desire and the spell wielding its power over him. He wrenches himself free of Emma’s delectable grasp and stumbles back with a strangled cry. “Emma!” he pants. “Stop…we can’t…”

Her brow wrinkles in confusion, making his Swan look adorably innocent and bewildered for a moment. Then a stunned expression crosses her face, and the surprise turns to a sort of irritated determination. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Captain?” she asks, her aspect changing again and a note of warning in her tone as she takes a deliberate step toward him, following his path of retreat. Tilting her head to the side, she studies him avidly, as if trying to unravel a difficult puzzle, and then she frowns disapprovingly and moves forward once more.

Killian almost gets the feeling she is toying with him: a predator playing with her prey before devouring it. It strikes him that perhaps right now he should fear for his life, or at least his well-being – and if it were any other wielder of magic, he would – but he feels an odd sense of calm overtaking him. This is still his Swan standing before him, his mind is still his own, and he knows she will return to him. Whatever control she has attempted to exert has failed, for whatever reason…now he must simply get through to her. He must find that thread of her mind that is still merely a lonely, frightened Lost Girl, bravely trying to love him back.

While all of this circles in his head, Kilian realizes abruptly that he has let Emma come right up next to him again. Their noses are nearly brushing, and they are practically breathing the same air when she speaks next in a still-sultry whisper. “I’m not quite finished with you yet…”

This time when her open palm makes contact with the bared skin at the deep V of his shirt, a jolt goes through Killian’s body akin to the force of an electrical current. It throws him back and to the floor, where he sits blinking up at her dazedly.

Somehow the impact of his fall snaps whatever magic has been holding his Swan in its grip. She stops moving after him, and she stumbles away, her shaking hands coming up to cover her mouth as her knees give out and she flops down on the edge of the bed behind her. Her eyes widen in horrified awareness, and Killian can see immediately that they are finally clear, intense green once more, clear of whatever darkness had overtaken them. She is Emma again.

But as she meets his gaze and her entire aspect crumples and falls, silent twin tears roll from her eyes and her lower lip trembles. He can honestly say that he has never seen her so vulnerable before, and it is plain just how sorry she is before she ever speaks.

“Killian?” she whispers brokenly. Her voice sounds childlike and pleading, almost as though she fears his is not going to be able to forgive her this, is going to fear her and run. She self-consciously smoothes her hair, pulls her robe securely closed and cinches it, biting her lower lip and trying not to break down in sobs. “Did…did I hurt you?”

When she at last seems to feel that she has herself put back together, Emma stands, trembling mightily, stumbles over to where Killian is still sprawled on the floor, and falls to her knees before him. The silent tears are still coursing down her cheeks, and she looks so hopeless that Killian’s heart breaks for her as she stutters out an apology. “I – I don’t know what came over me. I’m s-sorry, Killian.”

His hand comes up to cup her cheek, and she turns her face to nuzzle into the gentle touch. Her eyes close, and he can see her trying to steady herself with the deep breath she draws in. Her hands clutch at his shoulders bracingly, and almost before he registers doing so, he has pulled her forward into his embrace. They sit like that for several long, aching minutes, her hiccupping in deep breaths through her tears, he whispering soothing, shushing nonsense as he rubs her back, rocking them both back and forth as she sits curled up in his lap.

Eventually, Emma leans back just enough to meet his eyes and murmurs. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can’t believe I tried…tried to control you like that. Maybe I…maybe I am what my parents feared…” Her gaze falls away from his in shame as her words trail off, and his mind flounders for a way to comfort her. He feels no anger or resentment toward her, knows it wasn’t really her trying to cast that spell. He only wants to make things right.

“No, Love,” he urges, his voice a low, gravelly rumble as he croons his words warmly against her cheek, a secret for her ears alone. “I don’t believe that for a second. Something took you over. That is not your fault. You fought it off and returned to me. I’m right here, no lasting damage…and I do not intend to go anywhere.” This last he utters with the fervency of a vow, and she shivers at the intensity in his sea blue eyes.

She buries her face in his neck, nodding against his warm, soothing skin and trying desperately to rebuild her faith around his words. She is filled with relief that he is safe and whole, that she didn’t truly injure or harm him, but the way she had lost awareness and control…how she had almost used him…it turns her stomach and refuses to fade.

“Killian?” she asks, peering up at him from beneath her lashes, “how did you do it? How did you deny me what I was ordering? I mean – I’m glad you did, but – how? I put a spell on you.”

He shrugs uncertainly, giving her a rather sheepish half-smile. “I’m honestly not sure, Lass,” he remarks. He has been wondering the same thing, but an idea is coming over him that seems more and more likely as it takes shape. “Maybe you didn’t. Could it be that the spell failed because it wasn’t necessary?”

She gazes back at him curiously, “What do you mean?”

“Well, Lass…the words you said…they might have been meant to bind me to your will, but most of what your spell tried to take from me…well…it’s already yours.”

Emma’s breath stalls in her throat, chest tightening painfully as she is struck once again by just how much this man loves her – more than she can understand, more than she feels she will ever deserve. Now, in her right mind, she knows that ordering him to her side, to never leave her, never betray her, was completely unneeded. Her wishes – what she truly wants and needs, and not some twisted mockery of them – have always been his command; he has always considered them so. The spell, the curse, failed to compel him because Killian has already given her, of his own free will, anything she has ever asked of him. There was nothing for her bewildered magic to steal or take by force.

When she thinks that her voice will no longer waver unintelligibly with emotion, she tries to express to him some portion of what she is feeling. A watery smile spreads over her face. “You really are something, you know that, Pirate?” she says, tracing a gentle finger across his forehead and down his cheek.

“Hardly, Swan,” he tosses back modestly. “Tis you who is the marvel.”

She shakes her head, feeling anything but after what has transpired between them in the last half hour. She wearily finds her feet and offers him a hand to stand as well.

“Truly, Emma,” he presses. “You broke away from whatever had you in its hold. I could see it happen – one minute you were not yourself, and the next you had found your way to the surface again.”

“You know, it’s strange,” she muses, genuinely wishing she knew how she had accomplished her return or even what had happened to begin with. “The last thing I remember was holding Henry at the top of that cliff, looking over the edge and…” here she looks away guiltily, “being glad that Cruella was gone.” 

The pirate places his fingers beneath her chin and gently turns her face back to his, then lightly brushes a fallen strand of hair back over her shoulder in the way that she has grown to love. He holds her eyes with his, willing her to see that his belief in her has not faltered, that she is still his Savior…and always will be.

“Maybe that…darkness…took me because, well…” she licks her lips and then forces herself on, “because I took a life, even if it was in defense of Henry, and…in that moment I wasn’t even sorry.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Don’t worry about that now. We’ll figure everything out, Swan. I promise.”

“It’s just that if I could understand what happened, maybe I could guard against it. I don’t want to do something like that again. I was standing there, looking over the edge, and then it was like this curtain came down…” Her gaze turns inward as she starts to think it through. He can see the wheels turning in his love’s brain as she pieces the events together. “Yes, and then I thought…”

Killian doesn’t hear what she had thought however, because in the next moment she utters a pained gasp, clutching her hand to her temple and screwing her eyes shut. His name leaves her lips in an agonized breath, then her body stiffens, her eyes fall shut, she slumps forward against his chest and goes frighteningly still.


	4. iv. don't lose faith

iv. don’t lose faith

Emma’s lapse from consciousness happens so sudden and unexpectedly that for a moment Killian stares at her slack, motionless face in panic, frozen and unsure of what to do. Then, he gingerly grips her chin, trying to shake her head, then taps her cheek, desperate to rouse her, but gains no response. “Emma! Emma love!” Answer me!” he calls harshly, voice rough and horrified.

When there is still nothing, Killian finds the pulse point beneath Emma’s jaw, at least somewhat comforted by the steady beat of it against his fingertips. She is breathing – he can see her chest rise and fall gently – but her eyes do not open to meet his, and she does not wake. At a loss, Killian finds the infernal contraption Emma calls a cell, which she has insisted on his carrying, and fumbles to open it with shaking fingers. It feels torturous to scroll through contacts and waste precious time not trying to revive Emma, but his every sense and bit of experience tells him her current state is not natural and that his Swan needs help he cannot provide. The Queen’s name finally appears on the screen, and he pushes to start dialing, waiting near breathlessly as it rings. When the formerly evil monarch answers, with a puzzled-sounding, “Hook? What is it?” it is all he can do not to yell for her to appear at Emma’s side immediately. With a supreme effort, Killian reigns in his desperation and says tightly, “Regina?” then begins to explain the situation as succinctly as he can.

Once the Queen has been apprised, she promises to come as soon as possible, while also assuring the pirate that she will speak to Emma’s boy and her parents. “Try to make her comfortable and keep calm. If this is what I think, she will be alright. Her body is merely trying to recover what was exerted in throwing off the darkness’ control. Just sit tight.”

Help on its way, Killian tosses the phone aside blindly, caring little for where it lands, and focuses completely on Emma once more. Gathering her in his arms, he stands and moves to place her on the bed, trying not feel his heart falter in his chest when her head lolls limp against his shoulder. Her silken blonde hair flows in a bright spill over his arm, and as he lays her down on the soft mattress and brushes the strands back off her forehead, he cannot help marveling at her beauty. The vulnerability of her current state only highlights her usual strength that has often frustrated, but always amazed, him.

Kneeling at her side, Killian tenderly strokes a finger along her cheek and leans to whisper huskily in her ear. “What did you do, Lass? I would rather you have hurt me than to see you suffer. Please, Emma…hang on. Stay with me…”

Though it feels interminable, Killian knows that perhaps only minutes have passed before Regina and the Charming cavalry arrive, bursting into the room in a concerned rush. 

“What happened?!” David asks brusquely, more demanding than is necessary in his concern for his daughter. He is immediately at Emma’s other side, staring across at Killian over Emma’s prone form, searching for answers.

Killian doesn’t take offense at his mate’s tone or delivery, but he still has no desire to open a conversation with Emma’s father that will include explaining that she had tried to seduce him while not in her right mind and collapsed not long after he refused her. 

Mary Margaret is silent at David’s side, biting her lip when no sweet, comforting words can be of use. She knows Emma had been angry at them both, wanted none of their concern or advice when they had seen her last, and so she merely perches on the edge of the mattress at her daughter’s side, smoothing a hand over Emma’s forehead with motherly care and interlacing her fingers with Emma’s as she takes her daughter’s hand.

Regina gives Killian a quick, sidelong glance, letting him know she has some idea that the circumstances are not something he wishes to share with her parents. She speaks up quickly, tone brooking no arguments. “What happened isn’t as important as what we need to do now,” she proclaims. Brushing them both aside to lean close, she listens intently, as if for some sign from within Emma. Clearly reading something that the rest of them cannot perceive, her expression clouds; a painful thought crossing her face with an intensity that can’t be hidden. She shakes her head to clear whatever had troubled her before standing again.

Squaring her shoulders, Regina faces the three of them and draws in a deep breath, holding each of their gazes for a moment, then trying the best she can to explain. “Once, long ago, when I was still a student of Rumplestiltskin’s, I had doubts about the path I was taking…the person I could feel myself becoming. I even stopped going to him for my magic lessons at one point, though it didn’t work very well when he turned up looking for me. Rumple said something to me that day which convinced me it was too late – that I couldn’t turn back – something I had forgotten until now. ‘That darkness has tasted you…and it likes how you taste.’ Even then, before I could know how far I would fall, it chilled me. Once darkness is allowed to creep in, once temptation has begun to work, it grows ten times harder to break free. Its intent is to devour the good and heroic in a person until it disappears. When Emma shook off its grip, she had to use an immense amount of energy and willpower. To put it as simply as possible, it drained her until her body had to shut down to recharge itself. She isn’t in mortal danger, but we may have to wake her ourselves. She may not have enough reserve left to do it.”

“How?” Killian speaks hoarsely, heart in his throat and ready to do anything that will bring his Swan back to them.

“Honestly, Hook?” she arches a perfectly sculpted brow at him, seemingly irritated at his impatience with the sharp emphasis she places on his moniker. However, he has come to know the monarch turned mayor well enough at this point to realize that her defensive stance with hands on hips and her feigned annoyance is meant to mask uncertainty. She is worried for the woman she has tentatively formed a friendship with, and she is in uncharted waters. “I’m not completely certain. I’m going to attempt a restorative spell for her depleted energy stores…but…I think waking her again is ultimately going to depend on you.”

“Me?” he asks disbelievingly, both eyebrows raised in question and surprise. “What sort of magic do you imagine me capable of, Your Majesty? Do you not think that if I could have wakened her I would have done so already?”

“Oh honestly!” Regina exclaims, flinging her hands out in exasperation. “Do I need to explain everything to you people? Really?! With all your proclamations of winning her heart and the way you two have been mooning over each other like besotted teenagers, you don’t know how to wake her up?”

Mary Margaret sucks in a quick little gasp, eyes flying to her daughter’s boyfriend and a pained sort of hope dawning across her face. “Of course,” she whispers, stunned and blinking back more tears. “It’s the most powerful magic of all…”

“Finally,” Regina states, “someone catches on!”

“True Love’s Kiss?” David asks almost dazedly, glancing between Regina, his wife, and Killian, as if he can’t decide whom to question first. “Are you sure?”

Killian feels his heart begin to pound like the hooves of a stampeding herd, mouth going dry and unshed tears burning as he tries to avoid the royals’ – his allies and friends – eyes. “It – it won’t work,” he forces out gruffly, clenching his fist at his side. “I can’t wake her.”

“Killian…” Snow reaches out tentatively to lay a hand on his arm. “How do you know that? Emma cares for you very much. You just have to believe.”

He swallows hard and finally meets those hopeful eyes, in a face so like his love’s, and rasps out, “I tried it once before…and I failed. In New York…I tried True Love’s Kiss…and it didn’t work.”

A wobbly smile breaks across her face, and if possible, her eyes light up with an even more hopeful expression. “She didn’t remember you then! It can’t work in cases of memory loss! Just ask Charming!”

Her husband smiles wryly, shrugs his shoulders and looks vaguely embarrassed, but he affirms the princess’ words. “It’s true. If she didn’t know you, she couldn’t love you.” An encouraged look grows on his face as well. “That doesn’t mean it can’t work now.”

Trying to temper his excitement, still unsure if he dares believe that Emma might actually love him as he does her. Not sure how it could be possible, how he could merit the reward of being the Savior’s true Happy Ending, just as she is his. He wants to trust, wants nothing more than to prove what they are and to save her, but he is not sure he can bear it if his kiss fails once more. “I’m not sure…” he hesitates, taking an almost unconscious step nearer to Emma in spite of his fears.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Regina prods determinedly, mouth pressed in a firm line. She moves her hand slowly over Emma’s form once from head to toe, the faintest of glow emanating from her palm. Then she steps back and meets his eyes once more. “She’s all yours, Captain,” then with the sardonic quirk of a half-smile, “now wake your princess.”

Feeling more than a bit awkward at having an audience – especially one that includes Emma’s parents – Killian draws in a deep, steadying breath and tries to focus himself on his feelings for Emma, to trust that this is going to work and that he will soon be gazing into her lovely eyes once again. Bending over her, he cradles the back of her head and with the barest pressure, touches his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

A whoosh of strong wind and tingling power surrounds them and seems to sweep his whole world up in a rainbow of color and sparks, warmth and joy, as it washes over the room. When he feels himself come back to the present, Killian looks down, blinking and breathless, somehow knowing with restored hope that the kiss has worked.

Ever so slightly, Emma begins to stir, her eyes fluttering open and gazing up at him blearily. She gives him a groggy smile and whispers. “Killian...You woke me up?”

Struggling to find his voice, he sits down beside her, helping her up to face him and trailing reverent fingers down her arm to clutch her hand in his. For a moment, they are the only ones in the room, and the others have disappeared. “Aye, Love,” he confirms. “Did you ever doubt I would?”


	5. v. when love is true

v. when love is true

 

Nearly a week passes before a gentle breeze off the Atlantic ruffles Emma Swan’s hair and buffets her face as she walks onto the wooden planks of the dock where the Jolly is berthed in Storybrooke harbor. Finally, she hopes to find her pirate and discuss what they now know is between them. A lot has happened since he woke her with a fairytale-style kiss and her own father’s famous words, but it is only now that the weight of too many other pressing concerns are easing from her shoulders that she can really focus on what that kiss means. At first her head had been spinning, the whole sequence of events from Cruella’s going over the cliff to waking up with Killian hovering over her anxiously a confusing blur, but looking into his face she had known she couldn’t run this time. She had to stay and find out where they go from here. She’s just had a few other fires to put out in the meantime.

Maleficent and Lily reunited and left together to start over elsewhere, Lily finally convinced that she wanted her own happiness and a genuine relationship with her mother somewhere they could both be safe and at ease more than she wanted revenge. Snow has been a bit dizzy and sore from being thrown by a dragon, even with Emma’s quick healing fix, but she is recovering and David is at her side, waiting on her hand and foot. The only real enemies left are Rumple and the Author. True, the Dark One had held a plan for each of the so-called Queens of Darkness, but in all actuality, he is the only true villain – the rest of them merely smoke and mirrors to cover for him and obscure his sinister goals. 

Emma doesn’t want to think of any of that this evening. She only wants to find her dashing rapscallion – apparently also her True Love, though she had once thought that an impossibility for herself – and enjoy a gorgeous sunset over the water.

A faint echo of her footfalls on the aged and weathered wood rings in her ears soothingly as she sets her sights on the returned pirate ship and makes her way toward it. Just the sight of those proud sails brings a gentle smile to Emma’s lips, serving as a symbol of just how much Killian loved her – long before she was willing to see or accept it. That he would give the Jolly up for the mere chance to find her means more to her than she can express, but she is still glad his beloved ship has found her way back to her Captain. The way Killian’s eyes sparkled was so priceless and bright the evening he dragged her down to the docks to show her “a surprise” after Ursula’s departure, that now Emma finds herself wanting to give him cause to replicate it – quite often if she has any say in the matter.

As she reaches the Jolly’s side, Emma can see her pirate standing on the deck at the far rail, looking out over the waves to the horizon. The wind ruffles his black hair, and he looks so at home and peaceful that Emma cannot help the grin she feels curling her lips. She is long past the fear that he misses his free and wild nomadic pirate’s life; that he will feel a wanderlust and set sail once more, never to return. She knows better. Yet, it is lovely to see him in his element, where he is most at ease.

Killian must have heard her coming, because he turns to face her with a knowing, rakish smile on his face as she comes to a stop and gazes up at him. “May I help you, Lass?” he questions playfully, all the tempting, suave gentleman sailor.

She gives him a saucy smile in return, a blush coloring her cheeks at the knowing gleam in his eyes. “Permission to come aboard, Captain Jones?” she asks flirtatiously.

“Aye,” he dips his head in a nod and comes to the top of the gangway to meet her and help her aboard when she reaches him, “permission granted.”

Once he has taken her hand at the last step onto the ship, he bends his dark head over their clasped hands to press a languid kiss the back of hers. “Welcome aboard, Milady,” he whispers huskily, and Emma’s insides give a delicious twist in response to his tone.

They turn and walk back to where Killian had been standing, but he doesn’t let go of her hand. Warmth floods her from that point of contact; Emma can almost feel it spreading through her veins. When once she would have felt smothered, overcome, she revels in it, the comfort found in his holding her close. As they stand at the rail looking out over the choppy water, she leans her head against his shoulder and allows herself to snuggle into his side and take the support Killian offers.

For several flawless moments, Emma revels in the quiet ease she feels between them, listening to the soothing beat of Killian’s heart beneath her ear and soaking up the warmth of his embrace. She is so comfortable in fact that she can almost still the flutter of anxious nerves and anticipation she has been feeling ever since discovering Killian had brought her around with a True Love’s Kiss. The implications are huge enough to scare her, bringing all her cynical doubts and insecurities to the surface and making all the blinking warning lights within her flare to life.

Yet, all she has to do is turn her head slightly and look up into Killian’s face to feel that panic subside. The gentle affection of his smile back at her, the adoration in his gaze, and the sweet humor which crinkles the crow’s feet at the corners of his glittering blue eyes. There is no doubt of the fierce devotion within this man – who has literally crossed realms and through time, outrun curses, made a deal with the Dark One and banished his own demons to stand here at her side. She knows if there is anyone in this world whom she can trust with her heart, then it is Killian. He would lay down his very life for her, has offered himself to protect her more than once already, and there is no longer any use denying she would do the same for him. 

If that is True Love, then perhaps it is something she can have after all. For all that she loves her parents and has come to appreciate their love story and her own charming beginnings, maybe there is another version for the Lost Girl-Savior – not a storybook fairytale, but a ballad of redemption where a scarred and vengeful pirate finds light and a reason to live again in an orphaned thief who had never dared believe she could matter so much to anyone. Her pirate had certainly scaled walls so high that no others could surmount them, but Killian had told her from the start that he loved a challenge. Emma no longer wants to run. She wants to stay in his arms and his heart, make a home with him, and protect that home and those they love…together.

“So, Lass…are you still weighing the repercussions of being kissed by a dashing rapscallion such as myself?” He waggles an eyebrow at her playfully, joking lightly, but not quite managing to hide the uncertainty beneath, his fear that she still may not admit what they are, may not give him the assurance he needs from her like air to breathe.

She smirks back at him, trying to keep a straight face as she lobs an old taunt back at him. “Are you sure you can handle it, Pirate?”

Killian chuckles, the sound a pleasant rumble in his chest that she feels vibrating through her as well. Killian brings his forehead down to rest on hers, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. “What do you think, Swan?” he murmurs hoarsely.

She swallows hard, knowing that she won’t be able to put her heart into words the way she wishes. Her throats constricts even thinking about it. Instead, she tilts the few inches she needs to kiss him slowly, with a sensuous, toe-melting passion and commitment, reeling him in and wrapping her arms around his torso to cling to him tightly. “I think you know…” she finally whispers breathily when she pulls back for air. “It’s taken me long enough to admit it, I know, but…” she twines her fingers with his and presses their joined hands to her heart, trembling with the import of this moment. “This belongs to you. You’ve won it.”

Killian waits, knowing she isn’t finished and biting his bottom lip in hopeful anticipation, never taking his eyes off her open expression, simply basking in the joy he sees on her face.

Emma lets her words slip out on a shaky breath, finally giving Killian the promise he has waited so long to hear, “I love you.”

The admission washes over him like a healing balm, finally sure that his Swan wants what he does – a forever home with one another. His long, arduous journey back to a man of honor at last feels complete, and he feels confident enough to say what he has felt on his tongue through all their adventures, what he has desperately wanted to tell her time and again. “And I love you, Emma,” he swears, “for the rest of my days.”

Their lips meet once more in a searing kiss as colors streak across the sky with the sun’s last light. No pulse of energy or sparks of magic fly this time, but Emma still feels the contact all the way down to her toes. She knows that their enemies and the newest threat aren’t gone, but in this one perfect moment, none of that matters. There is only she and Killian; he loves her, she believes it, and she can tell him gladly that she loves him too. Her heart soars from its confines, the walls she has hidden it behind gone at last, and she knows that whatever new wave of trouble comes, it will find them united and stronger than ever.


End file.
